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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2011 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



http://www.archive.org/details/sheafofversebounOOtuck 



SHEAF OF VERSE 



BOUND FOR 



THE FAIE 



BY 



HENRY THEODORE TUCKERMAN 







*y$ 



NEW YORK: 
C. A. Alvord, 15 Vande water St. 

1864. 












*o 






/f/ ^St*? t./f£4 



ft 3 I ° * 



i 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, 

By HENEY T. TUCKEEMAN, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the 
Southern District of New York. 



Z L 1 . } $"" 



Presented to the Sanitary Commission, by C. A. Alvord. 
Only 1,000 Copies Printed. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Italy 5 

The Indian Summer 14 

Chester ■ . .16 

Egeria . . . 18 

Hofer 20 

To a Lake 22 

Syracuse 24 



Better Moments 



Q 



The Cathedral 31 

The Hero of Lake Erie 33 

Cleopatra's Pearl 37 

The Funeral of Crawford 38 

Newport 41 

The Siege of Rome 42 

Sunnyside 46 



A SHEAF OF VERSE 



ITALY. 



With what enchantment glow 

The mountain peaks of snow, 
And the blue waters of that Southern sea 

Whose dallying arms inclose 

The beauty and the woes 
That lure our restless hearts to Italy ! 

The mystery of Time, 

With interlude sublime, 
Steals through the murmur of the passing day ; 

Memorials of the Past 

A pensive challenge cast, 
And from familiar bounds win thought away ; 

While Music's pulses beat 

To guide the willing feet 
Where gifted spirits limitless aspire ; 

And all the muses wait 

Our life to consecrate, 
And bid the soul expand with vast desire ; 
2 



A SHEAF OF VERSE. 

Raphael's angelic child, 

Salvator's forest wild, 
The sunset's golden mist Claude's pencil caught ; 

Brave Michael's forms sublime, 

That adamantine rhyme 
The Tuscan bard from love and sorrow wrought ; 

Petrarch's love-rounded lays, 

And Tasso's tear-gemmed bays, 
The marble wonder of Rome's saintly pile ; 

Bellini's plaintive strain, 

Marengo's storied grain, 
Kindle the fancy and the heart beguile, 

Nor less does Nature woo, 

With ravishment imbue 
The elemental grace her aspect fills ; 

What azure seems to brood 

Above, in tender mood, 
While glimmering sunshine laughs upon the hills ! 

The sky, at evening, glows 

With amber, pearl, and rose, 
As if to pave with gems a seraph's walk ; 

Twilight's soft breath endears, 

And melts in grateful tears 
On the flax blossom and the aloe's stalk ; 

Vineyards serenely crest 
The hoar volcano's breast, 
And orbs of flame through darksome foliage gleam 



ITALY. 7 

Umbrageous Apennine, 
And lakes of crystalline 
Invoke the limners touch, the poet's dream. 

The chestnut plumes uplift, 

And violet odors drift, 
As winds from vale to upland gently pass, 

The cypress shafts to sway, 

Sigh through the olives gray, 
And almond flowers scatter on the grass. 

Yet soon our rapture flies, 

The sweet illusion dies 
When human scenes call back the pilgrim's glance ; 

And the degraded land 

Beneath oppression's brand 
Reproachful mocks his visionary trance. 

The glory of the Past 

A shadow seems to cast 
And living charms allegiance to defy : 

No beauty can elate, 

No genius consecrate 
The air whose echoes waft the captive's sigh. 

Through Freedom's long eclipse 

Mute are inspired lips, 
And life a tortured vigil to the brave ; 

For they who do and dare, 

The patriot's fate must share — 
Scaffold and rack, the dungeon and the grave ! 



A SHEAF OF VERSE. 

" She is not dead, but sleeps, 

Though slow the life-blood creeps 
Through veins benumbed with anguish, not despair ; 

Invaders yet shall fly, 

The despot and the spy, 
And brutal priestcraft tremble in its lair P' 

Thus have thy lovers cried 

When skeptics, in their pride, 
Would own no promise in the baffled zeal 

That pined in Spielberg's gloom 

And braved the martyr's doom, 
Or patient bore the pangs thy exiles feel. 

And now a King benign, 

By Love's own right divine, 
His father's fallen sceptre takes with awe ; 

And wields it to obey 

The humanizing sway 
That dedicates a race to Liberty and Law ; 

With him a Statesman wise, 

Whose liberal mind defies 
The narrow feuds that severed states control ; 

And strives, from mount to sea, 

Inviolate and free, 
To wake and harmonize a nation's soul ! 

And when the arms of Gaul 
Unloosed the Austrian thrall, 
And Victor's banner cheered the Lombard plain ; 



ITALY. 9 

It floated wide and free 
Along the Tuscan sea, 
And bade Yal d'Arno's lilies bloom again ! 

Then to the Patriot King 

* Castruccio's sword they bring, 
And Faction's ancient trophies all divide : 

And throngs, with festal rite, 

Seek the far mountain height, 
To chant Feruccio's glory where he died. 

Another champion now 

Lifts his unsullied brow, 
Whose wisdom chastens the intrepid eyes ; 

And with fraternal mien, 

And confidence serene, 
And dauntless valor, tyranny defies ! 

His firm Ligurian mould, 
Warm, trustful, frank, and bold, 
With years of peace and peril on the deep ; 



* On the occasion of Victor Emmanuel's visit to Tuscany, at the Villa 
Puccini, in Pistoja, JSTiccolo Puccini, the hereditary representative of the 
family, and a brave and liberal cavalier, presented to the " First Soldier of 
Italian Independence, 11 the celebrated sword of Castruccio Castracani, 
long reserved by its owner for such a disposition. At about the same time, 
a deputation of Genoese restored, with great ceremony, to Pisa, the chains 
of her Gate, which the once great maritime republic had borne oif as atrophy, 
during the mediaeval wars, from her hated rival. In the autumn of 184S, after 
the successful revolution in Tuscany, a festival was given at Cavinana, a little 
town nestled among the Apennines, in memory of Feruccio, on the very spot 
where, tradition says, he perished for his country, three centuries ago. 
9* 



10 A SHEAF OF VERSE. 

Nerved arm and chartered brain, 
Battle and faith to gain, 
And from their thrones the recreant princes sweep. 

And when his prowess fonnd 

At home no vantage-ground, 
He sought afar the struggling free to aid ; 

And trained his legions there, 

To wait, achieve, and bear, 
Until the signal came for Italy's crusade. 

Then like a star he rose, 

Portentous to her foes, 
Whose rallying beams electric courage spread ; 

And when Novara's day 

Had ended in dismay, 
In triumph unto Rome the patriots led. 

Oft from her ancient g;ate, 

Oblivious of fate, 
His eager cohorts, when the bugles call, 

Rush on the cannon flame, 

And victory proclaim, 
As, at their bayonets' gleam, the gunners fall ! 

When triple hosts surround 

That liberated ground, 
And Freedom's hopes in wanton treachery fade : 

With what heroic pride, 

His loved one at his side, 
Rides forth the Chief unconquered though betrayed ! 



ITALY. LI 

Hunted, proscribed, bereft, 

With naught but Honor left, 
A wanderer — noble in his lowly toil ; 

He watched with passive might, 

Prompt to renew the fight, 
And lead the van upon his native soil. 

Down from their rocky scalps, 

His hunters of the Alps 
Kush, like a torrent, at the onset's peal ; 

And Como's sbirri run, 

Varese's day is won, 
Imperial squadrons fly their charging steel ! 

Lo ! on a summer day, 

Around Marsala's bay, 
Uprose his war-cry through the welkin clear ; 

Sicilia's outraged isle 

Is kindled by his smile, 
And rallies to the strife with Garibaldi near ! 

How shrunk the craven horde, 

As flashed his waving sword, 
And onward with his gallant band he sped ! 

Women their jewels flung, 

Children around him clung, 
But royal myrmidons in terror fled ! 

From vine and cactus hed^e, 
From orange-grove and sedge, 
The dews of May exhaled their fragrant breath ; 



12 A SHEAF OF VERSE. 

Old Etna smoke-wreaths cast 
Upon the rising blast, 
That heralded her sons to liberty or death ! 

Palermo's golden shell 

Echoed her tyrant's knell, 
In the freed captive's shont, the people's cheer ; 

And saw her champion kneel, 

Upon his cheek to feel 
A dying comrade's sacrificial tear ! 

Across the Faro's tide 

His braves at midnight glide, 
And Freedom's watch-fires light Calabria's shore 

Swift his victorious way, 

Salerno ends the fray, 
Parthenope is reached — the struggle o'er. 

For Liberty's pure flame, 

Shrined in a crystal name, 
Such peaceful triumphs to his country brings ; 

Wins love that discords heal, 

From brother's steadfast zeal, 
And fleets and armies from apostate kings. 

His deeds afresh shall crown 

Volturno with renown, 
Where stood the despot's hirelings at bay ; 

And fiercely braved his might, 

In long and valiant fight, 
Where Han.nibal of yore led War's array. 



I T A L Y . 1 3 

No retinue attends, 

Nor pomp allurement lends, 
The patriot's mission and the victor's palm ; 

But the resistless grace 

Of manhood's pristine race, 
Benignant, simple, valorous, and calm ! 

And Roman hearts now burn, 

To hail thy blest return, 
Before whose face the cruel bigots flee ; 

While with unfaltering mien, 

The Adriatic Queen 
Uplifts her fettered hands to God and thee ! 

Free be the land whose breast 

Doth welcome every guest, 
Who, worn and weary with insensate strife, 

Seeks the maternal fold 

Humanity of old, 
The garner made for our propitious life ! 

1860. 



14: A SHEAF OF VERSE 



THE INDIAN SUMMER. 

Clasped with, a misty zone, 
Autumn her harvest robe serenely weaves ; 

Now burns the sumach's cone, 
And gleams the amber maize between the sheaves. 

In orchards gnarled by gales, 
How through the umbrage crimson apples glow, 

And clear the plaintive quails 
Pipe the rude urchins from their nests below ! 

The creeper wide unfurls 
Its scarlet banners as the zephyrs pass ; 

Snowberries strew their pearls, 
And starry asters fleck the tangled grass. 

The dogwoods purple bear, 
The hickories topaz in the sunset fire, 

And oaks brown mantles wear, 
While maples light between a sylvan pyre. 

Amid the swampy mould, 
And on the mountain-ash what rubies shine ; 

And, like a vase of gold, 
The yellow gourd hangs on the withered vine. 

Blithely cicadas spring 
Along our path, and loud the marsh frogs croak, 

And on insatiate wing 
The jetty crows poise o'er the stubble-smoke. 



THE INDIAN SUMMER. 15 

Immortelles incense breathe 
From the low meadows ; in the hush of noon 

The chestnut's prickly sheath 
Clinks down upon the turf its glossy boon. 

In flickering beams how glint 
The amethystine grape and emerald pine, 

And ocean's cold, gray tint 
Transmuted now to azure crystalline ! 

Lilies their speckled urns, 
And balmy firs their drooping needles, lift ; 

Their sculptured edge the ferns ; 
While slowly by the thistle-feathers drift. 

The columbines scarce nod 
Upon their slender stems and rocky ledge, 

Nor waves the golden rod, 
Nor hums the dragon-fly around the sedge. 

A mellow calmness lies, 
As if fruition solemnized the air, 

On woodland, field, and skies — 
The smile of Nature at her answered prayer. 



16 A SHEAF OF VERSE. 



CHESTER. 

How charmed we pilgrims from the eager West, 
Where only life, and not its scene, is old, 

Beside the hearth of Chester's inn at rest, 
Her ancient story to each other told ! 

The holly-wreath and dial's moon-orbed face, 
The Gothic tankard, crown'd with beaded ale, 

The faded aquatint of Chevy Chace, 

And heir-loom Bible, harmonized the tale. 

Then roamed we forth as in a wondrous dream, 
Whose visions truth could only half eclipse ; 

The turret shadows living phantoms seem, 

And mill-sluice brawl the moan of ghostly lips. 

Night and her planet their enchantment wove, 
To wake the brooding spirits of the past ; 

A Druid's sickle glistened in the grove, 
And Harold's war-cry died upon the blast. 

The floating mist that hung on Brewer's hill 

(While every heart-beat seemed a sentry's tramp), 

In tented domes and bannered folds grew still, 
As rose the psalm from Cromwell's wary camp. 

From ivied tower, above the meadows sere, 

We watched the fray with hunted Charles of yore, 

When grappled Puritan and cavalier, 

And sunk a traitor's throne on Rowton moor. 



CHESTER. 17 

Wo tracked the ramparts in the lunar gloom, 
Knelt by the peasants at St. Mary's shrine ; 

With his own hermit mused at Parn ell's tomb, 
And breathed the cadence of his pensive line. 

Beneath a gable, mouldering and low, 
The pious record we could still descry, 

Which, in the pestilence of old De Foe, 

Proclaimed that here death's angel flitted by. 

At morn the venders in the minster's shade, 

With gleaming scales and plumage at their feet, 

Seemed figures on the canvas of Ostade, 
Where mart and temple so benignly meet. 

Of Holland whispered then the sullen barge ; 

We thought of Venice by the hushed canal, 
And hailed each relic on time's voiceless marge — 

Sepulchral lamp and clouded lachrymal. 

The quaint arcades of traffic's feudal range, 

And giant fossils of a lustier crew ; 
The diamond casements and the moated grange, 

Tradition's lapsing fantasies renew. 

The oaken effigies of buried earls, 

A window blazoned with armorial crest, 

A rusted helm, and standard's broidered furls, 
Chivalric eras patiently attest. 

Here William's castle frowns upon the tide ; 

There holy Werburgh keeps aerial sway, 
To warn the minions who complacent glide, 

And sw^ell ambition's retinue to-day. 
3 



18 



A SHEAF OF VERSE. 



Once more we sought the parapet, to gaze, 

And mark the hoar-frost glint along the dales, 

Or, through the wind-cleft vistas of the haze, 
Welcome afar the mountain-ridge of Wales. 

Ah, what a respite from the onward surge 
Of life, where all is turbulent and free, 

To pause awhile upon the quiet verge 
Of olden memories, beside the Dee ! 



EGERIA, 

Not yet, not yet, can I for thee 

Awake a moving strain, 
To weave the minstrel's careless rhyme 

Would be a task of pain ; 
And thou hast never felt the wants 

That press upon the soul, 
When deeper moods with tender awe 

Its buoyancy control ; 
Hope's gladsome visions to thy mind 

The world in light array, 
And only hues of brilliancy 

Around thy fancy play : 
But when the fount within thy breast, 

Now sealed in deep repose, 
Shall gush to life and melt thy heart 

With music as it flows ; 
When from the lightsome word you turn, 

And, gazing through a tear, 



EGERIA. L9 

Look earnestly for kindred thoughts 

And sympathy sincere ; 
When Admiration can no more 

From Love thy bosom wean, 
And with a holy joy thy heart 

Upon true faith would lean ; 
When sorrow comes across thy path 

Its brooding shade to throw, 
And fires long pent in darkness up 

Send forth a vital glow ; 
When, shrinking from the light away, 

Expanded feeling's tide 
Shall to the channel of the soul 

Like hidden waters glide ; 
When for responsive glances look 

The eyes that now delight 
Only to trace the countless signs 

Of Beauty's gentle might ; 
When smiles upon thy lip shall play, 

Because thy life is blest 
With a noble heart's devotedness, 

And a cherished love's behest ; 
When Duty seems a rule of bliss, 

And Home a spell of joy — 
The precious gold whose wealth redeems 

The world's most base alloy ; 
And all the pageants Fame can boast, 

Or Fortune e'er bestow, 
Grow dim before the higher good 

Which it is thine to know ; 
When on thee dawns a sense of all 



20 A SHEAF OF VERSE. 

Exalted Truth can bring, 
And in her atmosphere serene 

Thy spirit folds its wing ; 
When hallowed grows thy constant thought 

Before affection's shrine, 
And all thy winning graces wear 

Its tenderness divine, — 
Then, dearest, bid me strike my harp, 

And, scorning tricks of art, 
I'll breathe a strain whose tone may wake 

An echo in thy heart ! 



HOFER. 



■ At the place of execution he said ' he stood before Him who 
created him; and standing he would yield up his spirit to Him.' 
A coin which had been issued during his administration, he deliv- 
ered to the corporal, with the charge to bear witness, that in his 
last hour, he felt himself bound by every tie of constancy to his 
poor father-land. Then he cried, ' Fire !' " 

I wiil not kneel to yield my life ; 

Behold me firmly stand, 
As oft I've stood in deadly strife 

For my dear father-land ; 
The cause for which I long have bled, 

I cherish to the last ; 
God's blessing be upon it shed 

When my vain life is past ! 



HOFER. 

On Nature's ramparts I was born. 

And o'er them walked elate, 
My retinue the hues of dawn, 

The mists my robe of state ; 
I will not shame my mountain birth, 

Slaves only crouch to die, 
Erect I'll take my leave of earth, 

With clear and dauntless eye. 

Thoughts of the eagle's lofty home, 

Of stars that ever shine, 
The torrent's crested arch of foam, 

The darkly waving pine, 
The dizzy crag, eternal snow, 

Echoes that wildly roll — 
With valor make my bosom glow, 

And wing my parting soul. 

This coin will wake my country's tears 

Fresh cast in Freedom's mould, 
And dearer to my brave compeers 

Than all your despot's gold ; 
0, let it bear the last farewell 

Of one free mountaineer, 
And bid the Tyrol peasants swell 

Their songs of martial cheer ! 

I've met ye on a fairer field, 

And seen ye tamely bow ; 
Think not with suppliant knee I'll yiel< 

To craven vengeance now ; 
3* 



21 



A SHEAF OF VERSE. 

Cut short my few and toilsome days. 
Set loose a tyrant's thrall, 

I'll die with un averted gaze, 
And conquer as I fall. 

Above the sense of human woes, 

Loyal to native land, 
Unconscious of these eager foes, 

Creator, see me stand ! 
Free as when first I drew my breath, 

Though girt with mortal ire ; 
My country, take a patriot's death, 

My God, his spirit,—" Fire !" 



TO A LAKE. 

Around thee mountains forest-crowned and green 

Majestic rise, 
Above, like love's triumphal arch, are seen 

The quiet skies. 

How sweet to watch the sunset o'er thee weave 

Celestial hues, 
And mark the rosy glow of morn and eve 

Thy face suffuse. 

How spread thy waters like a crystal sea 

When breezes die, 
And in their lucent depths cloud, hill, and tree, 

Reflected lie. 



TO A LAKE. 23 

How loves the moon a silver path to trace 

Athwart thy breast, 
Or see repose in thy pellucid vase 

Her virgin crest. 

Then ripples play and drooping leaves awake 

Her light to greet, 
While their soft murmurs on the silence break 

Like fairy feet. 

And from the shade of some o'er-hanging cliff, 

Or islet green, 
Starts forth with gentle plash the lover's skiff, 

To bless the scene. 

Bare flowers hano* their bright and fragrant urns 

Around thy brink, 
And the glad deer from leafy covert turns 

Thy w T ave to drink. 

The wild-birds woo thee as they coyly sweep 

With downward flight, 
Or cradled on thy bosom sink to sleep, 

In mute delight. 

Would'st thou know peace that lore can ne'er reveal ) 

Bend o'er the tide, 
And to thy heart its tranquil clearness feel 

Serenely glide. 



24 A SHEAF OF VERSE 



SYRACUSE. 

All day my mule with patient tread 

Had moved along the plain, 
Now o'er the lava's ashen bed, 

Now through the sprouting grain ; 
Across the torrent's rocky lair, 

Beneath the aloe-hedge, 
Where yellow broom makes sweet the air, 

And waves the purple sedge. 

Lone were the hills, save where supine 

The dozing goatherd lay, 
Or, at a rude and broken shrine, 

The peasant knelt to pray ; 
Or where athwart the distant blue 

Thin saffron clouds ascend, 
As Carbonari, hid from view, 

Their smouldering embers tend. 

Luxuriant vale or sterile reach, 

A mountain temple-crowned, 
Or inland curve of glistening beach, 

The changeful scene surround ; 
While scarlet poppies burning near, 

And citrons' emerald gleam, 
Make barren intervals appear 

Dim lapses of a dream. 



SYRACUSE. 25 



How meekly o'er the meadows gay 

The azure flax-blooms spread ; 
What fragrance on the breeze of May 

The almond-blossoms shed ; 
Wide-branching fig-trees deck the fields, 

Or round the quarries cling, 
And cactus-stalks, with thorny shields, 

In wild contortions spring. 

Here groves of cork dusk shadows throw, 

There vine-leaves lightsome sway, 
While chestnut-plumes serenely glow 

Above the olives gray ; 
Tall pines upon the sloping meads 

Their sylvan domes uprear, 
And rankly the papyrus reeds 

Low cluster in the mere. 

And Syracuse with pensive mien, 

In solitary pride, 
Like an untamed but throneless queen, 

Crouched by the lucent tide ; 
With honeyed thyme still Hybla teemed, 

Its scent each zephyr bore, 
And Arethusa's fountain gleamed 

Translucent as of yore. 

Methought, upstarting from his bath, 

Old Archimedes cried, 
" Eureka !" in my silent path, 

Whose echoes long replied ; 



26 A SHEAF OF VERSE, 

That Pythias, in the sunset glow, 
Rushed by to Damon's arms, 

While from the Tyrant's cave below 
Moaned impotent alarms. 

And where upon a sculptured stone, 

The ruined arch beside, 
A hoary, bronzed, and wrinkled crone 

The twirling distaff plied, — 
Love with exalted Reason fraught 

In Plato's accents came, 
And Truth by Paul sublimely taught 

Relumed her virgin flame. 

The ancient sepulchres that rose 

Along the voiceless street, 
Time's myriad vistas seemed to close 

And bid life's waves retreat ; 
As if intrusive footsteps stole 

Beyond their mortal sphere, 
And felt the awed and eager soul 

Immortal comrades near. 

The moss-grown ramparts loom in sight 

Like warders of the deep, 
Where, flushed with evening's amber light. 

The haven ed waters sleep ; 
Unfurrowed by a Roman keel 

Or Carthaginian oar, 
The speared and burnished galleys now 

Their slumber break no more. 



BETTER MOMENTS. 27 

But when the distant convent-bell, 

Ere Day's last smiles depart, 
With mellow cadence pleading fell 

Upon my brooding heart ; 
And Memory's phantoms thick and fast 

Their fond illusions bred, 
From peerless spirits of the past, 

And wrecks of ages fled, — 

Joy broke the spell ; an emblem blest 

That lonely harbor cheered, 
As if to greet her pilgrim guest, 

My country's flag appeared ! 
Its radiant folds auroral streamed 

Amid that haunted air, 
And every star prophetic beamed 

With Freedom's triumph there ! 



BETTER MOMENTS. 

With what a calm and hopeful grace come forth 
The starry emblems of supernal love 
Into the dusky sky ! So have our years 
Been shorn of darkness by the light divine 
From Time's dim firmament benignly shed 
By the same hand that led us forth at first 
To tread Life's solemn shore ; upon that strand 
Surges of grief, with melancholy roar, 
Will sometimes beat ; but only to subside 



28 A SHEAF OF VERSE. 

Into a pensive murmur, soothing oft 

Our troubled breasts with dreams of holier spheres, 

Where, like a peaceful lake, whose crystal depths 

E'er image lovely things, the heart expands, 

Tranquil and bright beneath the smile of God. 

Now that the last breeze of another year 

Thus sighs itself away, awake my soul ! 

And garner up the pleasant memories 

That smile upon thee from departed days ; 

Ere these redeemers of the Past grow dim, 

Throw on its tomb a wreath : Remember now 

How oft night's beauteous queen has solaced thee, 

When, on the ocean waste, her beams have spread 

A silver pathway for the barque of Hope 

To float serenely into coming time ! 

How did thy baser passions melt away 

In those soft, tranquil nights ! What calm divine 

Through all thy powers in subtle beauty spread, 

What solemn raptures stirred thy silent depths, 

What visions of the beautiful arose ! 

What passionate resolves to follow truth, 

Obey the inward law ; with boundless love, 

Firm trust, and conscious joy, to take thy way 

Through the mysterious destinies of earth, 

Free and untroubled as a happy child ! 

Recall the ravishments of music born, 
Warm with emotions tender and profound, 
When on a sea of melody thou lay, 
Swept with a thrilling freedom, or upborne, 
Oblivious of time, as some high strain 



BETTER MOMENTS. 29 

[mparadised thee with its melting spell, 

And rendered consciousness intense and sweet. 

Conjure from by-gone hours the sacred thoughts 

That came to thee at twilight, as the west 

Mantled the aged hills with pearly light, 

And sent bright scintillations up the sky, 

Like paths of amber, amethystine waves, 

Or roseate streams through azure meadows rolled, 

Emblazoned with a solar heraldry, — 

Commingling all within the purple mists, 

Which, like the floating robes of seraphs, play 

Round the departing' sun ! 

Renew once more 
The charm that lured thee, as thou loitered far 
Into the mazes of that verdant lore, 
That, like a primal forest of the east, 
Spreads its o'erladen branches many a league, 
While flowers of every hue beneath are strewn, 
Sending forever through the solemn air 
Incense the breath of ages cannot waste ! 
What though the world is cold, so thou canst steal 
From its stern throng, and in the orange-groves 
Of fair Verona, in the moonlight, hear 
Juliet's deep vow r s, fresh from her virgin soul, 
Stir the awed night-breeze, like the mystic tones 
Of spheral music from some new-born star ? 
Or stand beside the musing Dane, to note 
His thoughtful soul's deep strivings with itself? 
Think of the noble women thou hast known, 
Upon whose lovely browns high grace reposed, 
4 



30 A SHEAF OF VERSE. 

Within whose eyes the dew of tenderness 
Prom love's unfathomable deep welled up — 
Confirming faith in heaven ; whose tones of truth 
All affluent in hope, melodious breathed 
More eloquent responses to the plea 
For an immortal fate, than all the force 
Proud reason ever marshalled to adorn 
Doubt's desert plain with frigid argument. 

Recall those moments whose concentrate span 
Outvalues common years, when thou didst break 
From thy poor thrall of dust, as if thou felt 
The scope of an immortal flight were thine, 
And rose through Love's celestial atmosphere, 
Buoyant with gladness, to the gate of heaven ! 
Amid those blissful dreams, how paled afar 
The star of glory, like an earthly lamp 
At the first outbreak of the god of day ! 
Ah ! then thou didst forswear most earnestly 
Ambition's w T eary race ; the thirst for gold 
Died with disdain^ as manhood's mind contemns 
The toys of infancy ; each selfish aim, 
The sophistry of rank, pleasure's gay badge, 
And all the means and purposes of life, 
Dwindled to mocking trifles, as the waves 
Of a new-born affection proudly swelled, 
With a deep music and far-spreading sweep, 
Before which all the sounds of earth grew faint, 
And former prospects sunk to littleness. 

Such are the mysteries that circle life ! 
To think — -yet with unsatisfied desire, 



THE CATHEDRAL. 31 

Sit in the temple-porch of Knowledge still, 

Forbidden by our clay habiliments 

From rushing to the open arms of Truth, 

To lay our aching brows upon her breast ; 

To love — yet at affection's banquet glean 

Mere crumbs of nourishment, while our strong hearts 

Are shaping ever an ideal love, 

And thirsting for a sympathy of soul 

Which angels only know. 

Yet thank the Giver of each perfect gift, 
For the perception and the pledge divine ; 
Treasure the better moments thou hast known, 
When, with volcanic force, the light of thought 
Shed a celestial splendor o'er the world ; 
Or love, forgetful of its earthly fate, 
Seemed momently to know the deathless joy 
Awaiting it above ; a grateful hope 
Shall thus the elements of time subdue, 
And harmonize the soul with filial trust. 



THE CATHEDRAL. 

Round thy walls life's sea is beating, 

Like an ever-restless tide, 
But within, its waves retreating, 

To a holy calm subside. 

Sunbeams through thy windows slanting, 
Scatter gold and crimson dyes, 

Such as, autumn forests haunting, 
Glow beneath my native skies. 



82 A SHEAF OF VERSE. 



Statues pale mute watch are keeping 

Near the ashes of the bold, 
Banners dim with age are sleeping 

O'er the tombs so white and cold. 

Here the lonely mourner, kneeling, 
Feels Love's air upon his brow ; 

Here, with awed and earnest feeling, 
Maidens breathe the bridal vow. 

Truth's sublime and cheerful dawning 

From thy trophies ever smiles, 
iVnd a high and sweet forewarning 

Whispers through thy dusky aisles. 

Through thy arched recesses wending, 
Prince and peasant wander free, 

For thy gifts are all-befriending, — 
Oft have they befriended me. 

From gay crowds and sunny places 

Unto thee I've fondly turned, 
And amid thy solemn graces 

Mused until the fire burned. 

Here with peace my thoughts have blended, 

As the desert wind with balm, 
And my heart's vain strife has ended, 

Soothed by thy exalted calm. 

And since I must seek to-morrow 

A far land beyond the sea, 
Let me now fresh courage borrow, 

As I oft have done from thee ! 



THE HERO OF LAKE ERIE 



THE HERO OF LAKE ERIE. 

On a green knoll in yonder field of graves, 
Where the rank grass o'er mound and tablet waves, 
A granite shaft allures the vagrant eye 
To where the ashes of a hero lie. 
This briny air, in its perennial sweep, 
Nerved his young frame to conquer on the deep ; 
Around these shores, a boy, with sportive ease 
He trimmed his shallop to the wayward breeze ; 
A fearless athlete, in his summer play, 
He clove the surf of this unrivalled bay ; 
Trod the lone cliff where storm-lashed billows roll, 
To see the rocks their baffled rage control, 
Or watch their serried ranks majestic pour 
A ceaseless tribute on his native shore ; 
The snowy fringes on each leaping surge, 
Like victors' wreaths, heroic purpose urge ; 
In their wild roar the deadly charge he hears, 
Feels in their spray a nation's grateful tears ; 
The mellow sunsets, whose emblazoned crest 
With purple radiance flushes all the west, 
Like glory's banner, to his vision spread, 
To guide the living, consecrate the dead ! 

His boyhood thus by winds and waves beguiled, 
Here Nature cradled her intrepid child ; 
Won his clear gaze to scan the horizon wall, 
His heart with ocean's heart to rise and fall, 
4* 



34 ♦ A SHEAF OF VERSE. 

His ear to drink the music of the gale, 
His pulse to leap with the careering sail, 
His brow the landscape's open look to wear, 
His eye to freshen in this crystal air ; 
Braced by her rigors, melted by her smile, 
She reared the hero of her peerless isle. 

Then went he forth — not like a knight of old, 
Armed at all points, with veterans enrolled, 
But in the strength of a devoted will, 
A martyr's patience and a patriot's skill : 
No fleet was his whose guns and pennons bore 
The tested might of conquests won of yore : 
The trees whose shadow played o'er Erie's wave, 
Were felled and launched — a rampart for the brave 
The oak that stretched its leafy branches there, 
And dallied lightly with the autumn air, 
One morn, a sturdy bulwark of the free, 
Floated the empress of that inland sea ! 
No gray survivors of the battle's wreck 
Manned the rude ports of her unpolished deck ; 
Destined to grapple with a practised foe, 
The will to fight is all her champions know. 

Sublime the pause when down the gleaming tide 
The virgin galleys to the conflict glide ; 
The very wind, as if in awe or grief, 
Scarce w r akes a ripple, or disturbs a leaf; 
The lighted brand, the piles of iron hail, 
The boatswain's whistle and the fluttering sail, 
The thick-strewn sand beneath their noiseless tread, 



THE HERO OF LAKE ERIE. 

To drink the gallant blood as yet unshed, 

The long-drawn breath, the glance of mutual cheer, 

Eager with hope, oblivious of fear, 

Valor's stern mood, affection's pensive sigh, 

Alone declare relentless havoc nigh. 

Behold the chieftain's glad, prophetic smile, 

As a new banner he unrolls the while ; 

Hear the gay shout of his elated crew 

When the dear watchword hovers to their view, 

And Lawrence, silent in the arms of death, 

Bequeaths defiance with his latest breath.* 

Why to one point turns every graceful prow \ 
What scares the eagle from his lonely bough \ 

A bugle note far through the welkin rings, 
From ship to ship its airy challenge flings, 
Then round each hull the murky war-clouds loom, 
The lightnings glare, the sullen thunders boom ; 
Peal follows peal, and with each lurid flash, 
The tall masts shiver, and the bulwarks crash ; 
The shrouds hang loose, the decks are wet with gore, 
And dying shrieks resound along the shore ; 
As fall the bleeding victims, one by one, 
Their messmates rally to the smoking gun ; 
As the maimed forms are sadly borne away 
From the fierce carnage of that murderous fray, 
A fitful joy lights up each drooping eye 
To see the starry banner floating high ; 

* Just before the action, a flag- with the motto " Don't give up 
the ship !" was hoisted. 



36 A SHEAF OF VERSE. 

Or mark their unharmed leader's dauntless air 
(His life enfolded in his loved one's prayer ;)* 
Pity and high resolve his bosom rend, 
" Not o'er my head shall that bright flag descend !" 
With brief monition from the hulk he springs, 
To a fresh deck his rapid transit wings, 
Back to the strife exultant shapes his way, 
Again to test the fortunes of the day. 

As bears the noble consort slowly down, 
Portentous now her teeming cannon frown ; 
List to the volleys that incessant break 
The ancient silence of that border lake ! 
As lifts the smoke, what tongue can fitly tell 
The transports which those manly bosoms swell, 
When Britain's ensign down the reeling mast 
Sinks, to proclaim the desperate struggle past ! 
Electric cheers along the shattered fleet, 
With rapturous hail, her youthful hero greet ; 
Meek in his triumph, as in danger calm, 
With reverent hand he takes the victor's palm ; 
His wreath of conquest on Faith's altar lays,f 
To his brave comrades yields the meed of praise ; 
With mercy's balm allays the captive's woe, 
And wrings oblation from his vanquished foe ! 

While Erie's currents lave her winding shore, 
Or down the crags a rushing torrent pour, 
While floats Columbia's standard to the breeze, 
No blight shall wither laurels such as these ! 

* Perry said, after his miraculous escape, that he owed his life to 
his wife's prayers. 

t " It has pleased the Almighty to grant to the arms of the United 
States a signal victory," &c. — Perry 1 s Dispatch. 



C L E P A T R A ' S P EARL. • m 



CLEOPATRA'S PEARL. 

How bravely plunged the diver low, upon his weary 

quest, 
And struggled long amid the waves, at royalty's behesl ! 
The deep resigned its cherished gift, enchanting queen, 

to thee, 
And yielded Egypt's diadem the tribute of the sea ! 

Awhile it decked thy olive brow, or graced thine arm of 

snow, 
Or proudly fluttered on thy breast with the warm heart 

below, 
And then the pure and matchless gem, nursed by the 

crystal brine, 
Was in a golden vase dissolved, and quaffed with ruddy 

wine. 

As the heart's pledge that costly prize was wildly offered 

up, 
By Beauty's fond caprice decreed to melt in Pleasure's 

cup ; 
Ah, sweeter lips saluted thee than sea-shell's rosy curl, 
No jewel of the deep is famed like Cleopatra's pearl ! 

Alas ! as rare a pearl — thy love, proud queen, as swiftly 

flew 
In Luxury's base goblet drained — too sparkling to be 

true ; 
While cold beneath a serpent's fangs thy bosom ceased 

its strife, 
And in Despair's dark chalice fled the jew T el of thy life. 



38 



A SHEAF OF VERSE. 



At the world's banquet, thus we pledge our dearest 

gems away, 
And make the jewels of the soul anticipate decay — 
Cherished awhile, then one by one swept off in Passion's 

whirl, 
Or melted in the cup of Time, like Cleopatra's pearl ! 



THE FUNERAL OF CRAWFORD. 

December 5tli, 1857. 

The tears that silent fall, 

The ritual and the pall, 
The dirge and crowd of mourners gathered round, 

Declare a vanished breath, 

The cold eclipse of death — 
But Worth and Genius rend its narrow bound ; 

Their offspring cannot die, 

And fondly hover nigh 
To soothe the anguish they may not control ; 

What an undying race, 

In forms of placid grace, 
To Fancy's gaze reveal the Sculptor's soul ! 

A harp's low, quivering note 

Above us seems to float 
Like the faint murmur of a lover's sigh, 

And a lithe shape to glide 

Seeking the ravished bride, 
As eager Orpheus moves expectant by ! 



THE FUNERAL OF CRAWFORD. 

And Liberty's appeal 
From lips of bronze to steal, 

As Eloquence uplifts persuasion's hand ; 

While near, transfixed in thought, 
From inward rapture caught, 

Music's high priest before us seems to stand. 

With firm, exalted mien, 

In rectitude serene, 
Our Country's Father reins his martial steed ; 

And thronging to the rite, 

Looms on our aching sight, 
A vast procession from the quarry freed ; — 

Pandora's queenly breast, 
Aud Cupid's loving zest, 

The Grecian hero and the Saxon child ; 
And death's angelic sleep 
Seems evermore to creep 

O'er the clasped infants lost amid the wild. 

Hushed be the requiem's wail, 

As forms so mute and pale, 
Yet warmed to life by thy creative art, 

Llaste, like pure spirits, here, 

To consecrate thy bier, 
And living still procaim thy dauntless heart. 

Beauty's immortal quest 
Sustained privation's test, 
L r ntil youth's vision manhood's prize became 



40 A SHEAF OF VERSE. 

Then the delights of home, 
And hallowed air of Rome, 
Crowned thy unswerving prime with love and fame. 

In Fortune's noon of might 

Came the relentless blight, 
And Life's best triumphs thou no more couldst share ; 

Those hands that nobly wrought, 

And truth enamored sought, 
The chisel loosened then — to fold in prayer ! 

The Grief whose shadows rest 

Here in thy native West, 
An echo wakes in Art's perennial clime ; 

Thy marble children wait, 

In beauty desolate, 
And brothers mourn thee in that haunt of Time ! 

The sunsets pensive flush, 

The fountains moaning gush, 
Campagna flowers sweeter incense breathe ; 

Beneath the Palatine, 

In studio and shrine, 
Glory and Woe their palm and cypress wreathe ; 

With Art's eternal calm, 

With Faith's all-healing balm, 
And Love's unfading smile, — thy spirit fled ; 

Ah, no ! by these we feel 

Its presence o'er us steal, 
Though kneeling tearful here beside the dead. 



NEWPORT. 41 



N E W P 11 T . 

Between old gable roofs afar, 
I watch the shadows on the bay, 

When o'er it lianas the morning star 
Or steals the waning glow of day. 

Like sapphire gleams its crystal blue 
Beneath the sky's unclouded dome, 

While every breeze awakes to view 
A thousand crests of pearly foam. 

I watch the sail across it glide 
And vanish like a wing in air, 

Or, mirrored in the glass v tide, 

The anchored craft sway idly there. 

I see the fragrant zephyrs play 

O'er clover bloom and twinkling grass, 
Amid the poplar leaves delay, 

That turn to silver as they pass. 

Through clinging mists that, as a shroud 
Its mottled limbs float dimly o'er, 

Like a huge spectre wrapt in cloud, 
I watch the dying sycamore. 

From Fancy's trance awakened soon, 
I hear the ancient steeple's chime 

Break on the golden hush of noon, 
To summon back the thought of time. 



42 A SHEAF OF VERSE. 

But, when the level sunbeams fling 
Their rosy flush along the deep, 

And to the restless spirit bring 
The vigil that it loves to keep ; 

Then musing by the shore alone, 

While near the shelving billows rise, 

I list their dreamy monotone, 

As, with each lapsing wave, it dies. 

Or from yon green and craggy height, 
Gaze forth upon the boundless sea, 

That spreads beyond my eager sight, 
The emblem of infinity. 



THE SIEGE OF ROME. 

1849, 
The: mellow sunsets that with rapture fill 
Claude's young disciples on the Pincian hill,* 
No more are watched with meditative gaze. 
As melts their gold in twilight's purple haze ; 
Drowned is the pine's low whisper by the roar 
Artillery peals like billows on the shore, 
And the soft chorus of the serenade * 
Yields to the cheer that mans the barricade ; 
The moon's benignant ray, that sweetly fell 
On trellised vine and friar's quiet cell, 
Reveals dead heroes, whose cold faces still 

* Claude lived on Monte Pincio, and his house is still a favorite residence 
of students of Art in Eome. 



T HE SIEGE OF ROME . * : > 

Wear the stern smile that proves unconquered will ; 

The lofty cypresses on Mario's height. 

Like conscious mourners, greet the aching sight, 

For bayonets gleam from bulwarks heaped below, 

And in their shadow bivouac the foe. 

No organ's tone and nun's sweet voice beguile 

The musing stranger in Saint Peter's aisle, 

But its vast concave echoes back the sound 

Of booming cannon from the plains around — 

Those -hallowed plains, whose solitude the eye 

Of wandering artist melted to descry ; 

Where fragmentary arch and brooding cloud 

Forbid each tongue profane to breathe aloud ; 

Where, if a passing footfall hovered nigh, 

The frightened lizard swiftly glided by ; 

Where Nature's bounty, in that fertile clime, 

Paused, as if awe-struck at the wrecks of Time, 

And spread for ruthless man a neutral ground, 

With solemn hills and holy silence round, 

To check, with thought, the warrior's cruel zeal, 

And bid him Life's departed spirit feel. 

Vain lesson for that sacrilegious race, 

For whom the earth contains no sacred place ; 

Who, in their reckless hour, with fiendish care 

Torture a woman, and a marble spare ;* 

With " Free Republic" on their banner wrought, 

Crusade against her, though with valor bought ; 

Rome's peaceful haunts and venerable air 

* In the French Revolution, the same monsters who insulted with every 
conceivable degradation the imprisoned Queen, were scrupulous to preserve 
the statues in the Tuileries from the violence of the mob. 



u 



A SHEAF OF VERSE. 



Make waste and lurid with the battle's glare ; 
Through Faith's own temple speed the crushing ball, 
And shroud Art's trophies with Destruction's pall. 

Chivalric French ! the murderous bomb to hurl 
And wound a child, or kill a sleeping girl,* 
Shake the lone painter's easel, till no more 
His eager hand the canvas may explore ; 
Make drear the villa's paths of odorous gloom, 
Where ilex twines and oleanders bloom ; 
Bid your brave rifles from their massive screen 
Shoot patriots down the instant they are seen, 
And your base leader to his master send 
The mocking lie that Romans call him friend ! 

The Summer harvests all neglected wave, 
While peasants throng their country's name to save ; 
Nor thunder-bolt nor hot sirocco's breathf 
Can keep those reapers from the field of death ; 
Pale students haste their gentle lives to sell, 
And dark-eyed women quench the burning shell, J 
While Lombards, exiled from their native plain, 
Here wield the sword for Liberty again ! 

Ah not alone the Dawn's aerial grace, 
Bequeathed by Art's apostle to his race,§ 

* A letter from Mr. Freeman, the painter, which appeared in the Evening 
Post, mentions that a beautiful young Travertina was killed by a shell while 
in bed. 

f The same letter mentions the prevalence of thunder-storms and Sirocco 
winds during the siege. 

% The Eoman women extinguished many of the bombs as they fell. (See 
Madame Ossolfs letters.) 

§ Guido's Aurora was much injured. 



THE SIEGE OF ROME. • :> 

But the first rosy beams of Freedom's morn 
By tlic invader's battle-smoke were shorn ! 

When the guerilla troop* in bright array 

Took through the gate their melancholy way ; 

When the triumvir, fearless, calm, and proud, 

Resigned his trust to that despairing crowd, 

And over breastworks youthful corses made, 

The modern Goths their tarnished flag displayed ; 

When through the breach in Rome's once sacred wall, 

Filed the battalions of the perjured Gaul ; 

Oh, why did no celestial sign appear, 

Like that which beamed when Constantino was near \ 

No sainted hero or immortal bard 

By Heaven armed, that sacrifice retard ? 

And when achieved, how T like a funeral knell 
Through outraged Rome indignant silence fell ! 
Deserted balconies and streets forlorn 
O'erwhelmed the captors with a voiceless scorn ; 
From that vain triumph Beauty's pleading eyes 
Were turned, in anguish, to the tranquil skies; 
That sudden hush to each invader's ear, 
Murmured reproaches that he quailed to hear ; 
They stole from every house that lined the way, 
AVhose darkened casements hid the light of dav ;f 
From Tasso's convent, Raphael's burning home, \ 
The shattered cornice and the riven dome, 

* Garibaldi's corps. 

t The casements were shut when the French entered. 

X Raphael's house was consumed in self-defence by the besieged. 



46 A SHEAF OF VERSE. 

From lonely shrines and famine-stricken mart, 
And from the turf that covers Shelley's heart ! 

Ignoble triumph ! History's faithful page 
Records this shameful wonder of the age ; — 
A prosperous Nation, Conquest's wreath to gain, 
Brands her own forehead with the mark of Cain : 
Hastens, with sword and flame, the slow decay 
Of mouldering fresco, arch, and column gray; 
Blasts the fair promise of Rome's second birth, 
And stains with blood her consecrated earth ! 



SUOYSIDE. 

December 1, 1859. 

The dear, quaint cottage, as we pass, 
No clambering rose or locusts hide ; 

While dead leaves fleck the matted grass, 
And shadow rests on Sunnyside : 

Not by the flying cloud-rack cast, 
Nor by the summer foliage bred, 

The life-long shadow which the Past 
Lets fall where cherished joys have fled : 

For he whose fancy wove a spell 

As lasting as the scene is fair, 
That makes the mountain, stream, and dell 

His own dream-life forever share ; 



SUNNYSIDE . 

He who with England's household grace, 
And with the brave romance of Spain, 

Tradition's lore and Nature's face, 
Imbued his visionary brain ; 

Mused in Granada's old arcade 

As gushed the Moorish fount at noon, 

AVith the last minstrel thoughtful strayed 
To ruined shrines beneath the moon ; 

And breathed the tenderness and wit 
Thus garnered, in expression pure, 

As now his thoughts with humor flit, 
And now to pathos wisely lure ; 

Who traced, with sympathetic hand, 
Our peerless chieftain's high career ; 

His life, that gladdened all the land, 
And blest a home — is ended here. 

What pensive charms of Nature brood 
O'er the familiar scene to-day, 

As if, with smile and tear, she wooed 
Our hearts a mutual rite to pay ! 

The river that he loved so well, 
Like a full heart is awed to calm, 

The winter air that wails his knell 
Is fragrant with autumnal balm. 

A veil of mist lianas soft and low 7 
Above the Catskill's wooded range, 

While sunbeams on the slope below 
Their shroud to robes of glory change. 



48 A SHEAF OF VERSE, 

How to the mourner's patient sight 
Glide the tall sails along the shore, 

Like a procession clad in white 
Down a vast temple's crystal floor. 

So light the haze, its floating shades, 
Like tears through which we dimly see, 

With incense crown the Palisades, 

With purple wreathe the Tappan Zee. 

And ne'er did more serene repose 

Of cloud and sunshine, brook and brae, 

Round Sleepy Hollow fondly close, 
Than on its lover's burial dav. 



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